


Not an Inch.

by ManyRelish



Series: Not an Inch [1]
Category: Pokemon
Genre: AU, Actaeonshipping, M/M, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-13
Updated: 2011-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:10:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManyRelish/pseuds/ManyRelish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was my rival, so why was I the one on the verge of tears as I watched him hit the ground with a loud thunk! and let out a small gasp of pain?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not an Inch.

He was my rival, so why was I the one on the verge of tears as I watched him hit the ground with a loud thunk! and let out a small gasp of pain? There was a grin on the gun's face, the holder's face, the one who shot that kid—no shot me but that kid got in the way. That stupid rival bastard of mine who always got in the way of everything. I looked down at him, clutching his stomach, and curled up slightly into a ball, writhing on the floor because he had just been shot again by they same gun, and laughter was bubbling up from the offender like he was watching AFV or something retarded old show like that.

"--st love the self-sacrificing ones, don't you?" His words only made sense to me after a few moments (or hours or days) had passed of me staring at my partner in shock. "That's why I shoot them twice, teach 'em that it's alright to get shot as long as no one else gets hurt, right?" He laughed again, that sickening laugh that made me want to strangle him. "Looks like you're all shook up, so I guess I'll just take my leave," he added, turning and walking away.

I couldn't move, and then I felt something touch my ankle, a hand. I looked down.

"Dusk...noir..." he whispered, that partner of mine, "Don't let him... get..." He winced. "Shoot him!" He coughed up blood at those last words, and it was no wonder since he now had two holes in his body—one in his stomach and one in his lung. I fired. There was a second thunk!

He wasn't even on duty, he had just been in the area. I was the one doing the policing at the time, I was the one in the police uniform and bullet-proof vest. So why did he take the shot? I looked down, and those cold-warm-cocky-dark-cool-"I'm better than you Dusknoir"-golden eyes were drooping closed. I stooped over and pulled him into my arms, feeling so many emotions bubble inside—anger, hatred, jealousy, sadness, alone-ness, lo—.

"Why did you...?" I couldn't finish. In the distance there was a siren, blaring loudly and quietly because it was so far away and I could still hear it. Someone had called 9-1-1.

"'Cause..." his voice was so weak I'd never forget it. My rival, the man I looked up to and hated and envied and lo—. He was so strong, and yet here he was, dying in my arms, with dark circles under his eyes and straining to stay away so he could look at my face with an emotion I knew but refused to recognize. "'Cause you're... my part..ner..." he paused to take a shaky breath. "And I thi...think I..." He couldn't finish because his voice and lungs were failing him (I could tell because he sputtered up more blood, and I wiped it away, trying anything to ease the pain he was feeling). He reached up with a shaking hand and touched my cheek, and I could feel the blood on his hand stain my skin as said hand slid down and fell limp on his stomach. The siren was louder now, they were almost here but would it be too late?

His eyes were sliding closed, I could tell the effort of simply staying awake was exhausting him. No, he couldn't fall asleep, he couldn't pass out, this partner, rival of mine couldn't die!

"Grovyle!" I snapped, surprised by the own force of my voice. His eyes opened again, as if he was suddenly jolted awake by an angry teacher. "Grovyle don't you dare die on me!" I said, feeling my voice choke at the tears that threatened to escape my eyes (I couldn't let him see me cry, not when he was dying). His expression relaxed a little, and then—I could hardly believe it—he smiled. It was faint and gentle and pale like the rest of him due to all the blood he was losing, but it was still a smile, and it was still meant for me. In that smile he told me so many things, one of which was "It's okay." I felt like my heart was being torn out of my chest, and before I knew what I was doing—before I could stop myself, I leaned over, bringing his mouth to mine. He didn't object to it, but then again he hardly had any strength left. I don't know what expression he was making since I closed my eyes, but... But I think I felt him kiss me back, just a little.

The siren grew louder as I pulled away, and blared in my ear and someone took him from me and I couldn't move. Not an inch.


End file.
